I love with my mind,
with my body,
and with my soul.
My sex is my soul,
something I dare
to share
with someone else.
Whether they use it
or abuse it
or love it
and rise about it
is something else.
I thought love was real
Not just a fairy tale fed to appeal
to the young
to force feed American dreams
and unrealistic ideals.

I grew up hearing
“be a good girl, protect your sex
your soul.
Never let it go”
boys will be boys
and girls are their toys
They can’t control themselves
It something bad happened
you brought it on yourself.
I looked to my father to understand
just how is it a woman
should be treated by a man?
And that is when I abandoned it
everything I saw made me sick.
I gave up on love,
I became bitter.
I was a love quitter.
Nothing more than the convenience of my sex
Unavailable and they’d be on to the next.

Life was better back when I was blinded
that ignorance not quite bliss
Because then I was blind sided by truths
like a deceptive kiss.
Once the concept of monogamy
meant something to me,
but needs supersede the myth of love
Love is fair-weather
and together we are a unit that is fallible
and our faithfulness is malleable.
it is what it is
a business and a game
and as we begin to stray
names are irrelevant as long as we overlook our shame

I thought it was my mind and my heart
but it would end up being my sex from the start-
and dead inside
to find it was a fairy tale lie…
I can fight this battle
and protect my heart.
If this is all it is I can turn my sex into an art.

So now my mind and my body are tools
and like a fool
I stopped respecting myself
or my sex.
I removed my mind from the equation
because for this participation
I needed to be numb,
and then I relied on just my body
and the boys thought I was fun.
Sex became a sport
I made light of something important.
Lost self worth
along the way.
Lost self respect
when I slept
with that guy for a place to stay.
Self esteem?
I feel I became nonredeemable,
nasty, dirty little whore.
My auto pilot used to be a maid
but she turned into a porn star

And now I feel bad
that when I get sad and mad
I wanna call my dad
and say
Hey! I’m not different than the girls you bought.
Thanks a lot
for showing me my worth
I know what my body is good for.
I have a father who loves his little whores.
He’d probably be proud of me,
I can take one for the team,
Good little girl, I give my shit out for free.

Daddy issues for sure,
grab your tissues
these boys faces are a blur
reflexively self destructive is no cure.
No matter how many you lure
Let me reassure you
you’re insecure will leave you vulnerable
and you’re heart will not be worth a second thought
Like my dad treats his girls
My body is only good enough to be bought.

People often ask me what got into MMA. I started fighting shortly after I began a career on the ambulance. I was 22 years old, and my parents divorced after 28 years of marriage. I had just found out my dad had a problem with young prostitutes, poster age says legal….and at night on the ambulance when I picked up these girls and took them to the hospital after an assault, an overdose, an infection or being beat by their pimp, my heart would break and wondered what their life was like, I prayed my dad had never ‘bought’ them. I was sad he thought ‘helping’ them meant paying them for services instead of making sure they had a safe place to sleep at night.